


Zinnia

by ccaleb_widogast



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Prompt Fic, Trauma, except not quite exactly, that bath fic you wanted
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-27
Updated: 2018-02-27
Packaged: 2019-03-24 21:51:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13820151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ccaleb_widogast/pseuds/ccaleb_widogast
Summary: He said he didn’t recognize who he had once been, and yet he struggled to accept that he currently stared at himself in this mirror. The coat was brown leather, the trousers dark linen, the doublet a dark rust red, much like his traveling clothes of the last year or so. But the coat was clean and free of rot, the trousers still stiff and new, and the doublet actually fit, over a soft white tunic.There was no fleece to accent this coat, and the scarf was a comfortable knit instead of the tattered and unfolded cravat that once lay about Caleb’s neck.





	Zinnia

**Author's Note:**

> The Prompt is, "I know all my dreams are memories, but I don’t recognize that man anymore.” The fic may seem a little rushed; I had a separate head-canon that fit into the narrative of the prompt, and I may have squeezed a little too hard. If you're curious, there will be an expansion on this particular line of thought. Think of this as a potential prelude.
> 
> I picked Zinnia for its flower meanings; this one has different meanings depending on the color, but I liked each meaning. A few of them included "thinking of an absent friend," and "lasting affection."
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

“I know all my dreams are memories, but I don’t recognize that man anymore.” **  
**

“Well, that is poetic, isn’t it?”

Caleb looked over at Mollymauk, who lounged in a chair by the hearth. He looked relaxed and comfortable, but his eyes were sharp on Caleb.

“Poetic or not, it’s true.” Caleb looked back into the silver mirror, a little speckled with age. He said he didn’t recognize who he had once been, and yet he struggled to accept that he currently stared at himself in this mirror. The coat was brown leather, the trousers dark linen, the doublet a dark rust red, much like his traveling clothes of the last year or so. But the coat was clean and free of rot, the trousers still stiff and new, and the doublet actually fit, over a soft white tunic.

There was no fleece to accent this coat, and the scarf was a comfortable knit instead of the tattered and unfolded cravat that once lay about Caleb’s neck.

Behind him was a pile of charred clothes, recently pulled from the fire by the look of them, and the black marks streaked across the stones. Rotting leather, shredded silk, and dirty fleece. Caleb couldn’t look at his old clothes.

He shuffled over to the table adjacent to Molly’s chair and sat down next to the tiefling with a resigned sigh, and began to pull on his boots. At least those were his; sturdy riding boots he’d had for longer than a year, and would hold up on the road for a while to come. They’d been drenched in something and left out to dry, smelling faintly of soap and leather.

“And who was that man from your dreams?” asked Mollymauk, breaking the silence between them. Caleb only cast a glance at the tiefling that spoke more words than he could speak at this moment, causing Molly to grin and shrug. “Hey, you brought it up.”

“Not this,” said Caleb shortly. He gestured to himself, to the pile of ruined clothes on the floor. “I never wanted to be like this.”

Molly’s eyes softened a little. He sat up in his chair and, leaving Caleb little warning or chance to duck away, began brushing his fingers methodically through the human’s slightly damp hair. It was quick and with purpose, but not without an air of gentleness that reminded Caleb quite suddenly of Alfield.

Since then, Mollymauk had stayed suspiciously close to Caleb, and seemed to always be there whenever Caleb felt himself slipping away into one of his trance-like breakdowns. They were long familiar to him, his own defensive reaction to anything that might trigger the memories, but Mollymauk seemed to have learned - quickly, at that - the signs of an incoming breakdown. Usually, Caleb would slip away into the eyes and ears of Frumpkin, once again a cat, and forget about himself for a while. But occasionally, between Alfield and Zadash, he had been somewhat forced into mindless conversation with Mollymauk that was obviously meant to be a distraction. While confused and slightly suspicious, Caleb welcomed the distraction.

This had come once or twice with a tic that Mollymauk appeared to have, and that Caleb had noticed in his interactions with the rest of the party: it was the insistence and enjoyment of physical contact. Mostly it was just sitting too close to Caleb for comfort, who was too awkward to move away or ask for space. Sometimes Molly casually (probably unconsciously) draped an arm around Caleb’s shoulders as his words spiraled into some wild tale of his carnival travels. And once, after sharing a couple of swigs of that flask of his, Mollymauk had attempted to comb out Caleb’s hair with his fingers. Caleb had been just buzzed enough to allow it, albeit while tense and quiet. But his hair was just too dirty for a proper combing, and the tiefling had given up with a quiet hiss and simply leaned against Caleb and started talking about learning to braid Toya’s hair back in the carnival.

This time, Mollymauk was able to brush Caleb’s hair into something a little more tame. He let out a murmur of satisfaction, and let his hand drop to Caleb’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry about what Jester did,” he began awkwardly, casting his eyes toward the hearth. “She thought she was doing the right thing, but she has no consideration for actually asking before her attempts at kindness.”

Caleb shut his eyes. He didn’t want to think about the events of the last several hours, from Jester’s binding him with a  _Hold Person_  only to give him a  _bath_ , to the heartbreaking sight of Nott sprinting into the room shortly after, dressed in a cheerfully yellow dress with blue flowers dotted all over it. She had been excited to show Caleb her new outfit, complete with a cloak not unlike Jester’s.  _Hold Person_  or not, Caleb did not remember anything after that, except waking up on the floor of the hearth with a bundle of soft robes beneath his head as a pillow, and no one in the room except Mollymauk.

He had found his old clothes half burnt in the fire shortly thereafter and scrambled pathetically to pull them from the flames, numbly muttering, “No, no, oh, no,  _nein, bitte, bitte, nein_ ,” ignoring the stinging of the heat on his hands.

Mollymauk wrapped fresh linen around his hands with a gel (aloe, perhaps) that he procured seemingly out of nowhere, while Caleb sat on the ground in another trance, staring into the dancing fire. Then he sat with the man until he blinked back into this world, and was careful to proffer the new and clean set of clothes that  _he_  had picked out for Caleb, unaware of Jester’s more tricksome plans to force Caleb into them.

Now, Caleb opened his eyes to look at the bright tiefling before him. He nodded stiffly, and looked away again. Molly squeezed his shoulder, and sat back.

“I thought something close to what you had would be a small comfort,” he said. “You recall Fjord raising concerns of your appearance in a larger city like Zadash. You would have stood out there, especially with the rest of us -” he left out the obvious part about the rest of the party being dressed much better than Caleb, especially after Nott received her beautiful dress and cloak - “and despite whatever attachment to your dreams that those old rags have, they had to go.” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, pushing most of it behind his horns. “I had intended to talk to you about it and present the clothes myself. I didn’t know about Jester’s… plans.”

Caleb stared into space for a long time. Molly didn’t press him. The tiefling was right, he thought. It was a hard thought. It came with another flood of memories, of a time when the fire was long behind him, and he didn’t know what he was doing with himself, or where he was going. Stumbling through woods and fields and town alike, dazed. The cravat came undone first, uncomfortable and awkward after a time. Draped more efficiently like a scarf, and Caleb couldn’t find it in himself to let it go. More and more disheveled, until he was taken for no more than another broke traveler or homeless man at each village he passed.

At some point he had begun to toy with his magic again, began reading the two books he had salvaged, of an entire study’s worth of books. The first  _Fire Bolt_  had left him shivering and sobbing in the shelter of a tree for hours. But he had forced himself to commit it to memory, because he couldn’t spend the rest of his life fleeing from all sources of flame.

“It’s okay,” he said slowly, after several minutes of silence. “You - you’re right, of course. I do not want to stand out. That is the opposite of what I’d like. And,” he glanced ruefully at his old clothes, “I’m pretty sure my coat was going to just rot off of me soon anyway.”

Mollymauk let out a short laugh, relaxing slightly in his chair. He cocked a grin and clapped Caleb on the shoulder. “You’re not wrong there, my friend.” Then he stood and stretched, tail twitching, and shrugged his robe on from where it had been a pillow for Caleb after he had fainted. “Let’s get down to the others; I reckon they’re a tad worried, and your little goblin is probably getting worried.”

“She has Frumpkin,” Caleb muttered offhandedly, but he agreed wholeheartedly.

Molly cast a worried look at him from where he stood about to open the door. “You, ah, didn’t seem particularly okay when she came in before,” he said. “Will you… will you really be alright?”

Caleb grimaced and took a deep breath. “I must be,” he said, firmly.

Molly nodded, looking pleased. “Good, good. Then let’s go. I’m sure she wants to tell you all about her shopping spree with Jester.” Then he was off, sauntering down the hall, with Caleb trailing behind him at a much more subdued pace.


End file.
